


The Fairytale Continued

by caffy91



Series: The Fairytale Series (Merlin) [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, AlwaysaGirl!Merlin - Freeform, F/M, Genderbending, Merlin AU, Noble!Arthur, generswap, oblivious!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffy91/pseuds/caffy91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Merlin gazed upon the high towers of Camelot she thought "hmm, this will do just fine, I think." (Damn right). Genderbender always-a-girl-Merlin AU. SEQUEL to "Merlin and her Frog Prince"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fairytale Continued

**Author's Note:**

> Some people asked for a sequel, so here it is! Hope you like it.

** The Fairytale Continued  **

_(or how the young sorceress fell in love with the frog prince again)_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

 

           It is not to say that Merlin did not enjoy tending to the garden. She enjoyed the sunshine on her skin, the wind in her hair and the soil underneath her roving fingers. She enjoyed the vibrant colours of the plants and the fragrant smell of the blooming vegetables. Mostly, she enjoyed the look of relief on her mother’s face when she saw one less chore that she would have to do.

            She did not, however, enjoy the redness of her skin after spending all day in the sun or the itchiness that followed. She did not enjoy the ever-present bugs or how hard she had to scrub to get the dirt out from under her nails. And she most certainly did not enjoy the look of fear on her mother’s face when their garden grew higher and more fruitful than every other garden in the village. When the plants would grow three times larger than average. When the sun would shine on their little patch of dirt hotter than anywhere else or when the rain would fall and little more heavily.

            No. These were not things that she enjoyed.

 

...

...

...

 

            One day, Merlin was out in the forest collecting firewood. The forest was a special place for Merlin. It was almost as if it spoke to her. The wind whispering words so old and ancient into her body that she ached for something she could not quite name. Something to take the emptiness away. There were times where a melancholy would over take her so suddenly that she could almost feel the earth shift beneath her feet and watch the rest of the world through the eyes of someone far, far away. Where she could see her life in this small village and think “ _hmm, this will do fine, I think.”_

            (But this is the great Merlin we are talking about. _Fine_ isn’t going to cut it)

...

...

...

 

            “Merlin, I’m scared for you. If anyone were to find out what you ar— what you can do... I don’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to you, I just couldn’t bare it.”

            Merlin moved to kneel next to her mother. Hunith sat in front of a blazing fire, hands in her face.

 

            “They won’t find out mother, I’ll make sure of it, I will be more careful, I promise.”

 

            Hunith looked at her daughter. She looked at her wavy black hair that was bound with a fraying ribbon. She looked at eyes so blue that the sky could be their only comparison. She looked at the too large ears that stuck out and the long neck with a simple cord necklace around it. She had grown into such a fine young woman. But she was young, too. Too young. She did not know what would happen. She was innocent to the ways of poverty. The neighbours that would one day break bread with you would also hand you over to those who wished you harm if it meant food for the winter and seeds for the spring. Hunith ran a hand through her daughters hair, pushing a stray tendril behind her ear.

 

            “Oh Merlin, they already whisper about you when your back is turned. They are good people but hunger makes them desperate. And desperations turns men into untrustworthy friends. I will not let anything happen to you. That is why...”

 

            Hunith drew in a long breath. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to cry.

           

            “That is why I have to do this. I am so sorry Merlin, but you must go. I will not see you burned at the stake.”

           

            Merlin withdrew from her mother’s reach quickly. She staggered backwards, her hands clutching at her arms.

 

            “You want me to leave? But where will I go?”

 

            “To Camelot,” Hunith replied. “I have written to Gaius about it, he needs an apprentice and he is willing to take you on. You can learn discretion from him; he practiced magic way back when and escaped the pyre.” Hunith’s eyes watered and her shaky smile widened. “You have been to Camelot before, you had such fun. Don’t you remember Gaius?”

 

            Merlin shook her head violently, the thought of leaving her mother all alone to fend for herself making her physically ill.

 

            “No mother! I will not leave you here alone! It is too much work for one person. I will not go. I am not a child anymore, I can control my magic well enough that no one will know! I promise, please don’t send me away!”

 

            But Merlin knew. She could see it in her mother’s defeated posture, the slump in her shoulders, the crease in her brow, the sadness in her eyes.

 

            “I am so sorry, Merlin.”

 

           (Don’t worry reader, it’s only sad now. It’ll be better soon, I promise).

 

...

...

...

 

            As Merlin left the security of the forest path and gazed on the large walls and high towers before her, as the wind whipped through her hair and brushed her dress against her legs, as the dread inside her slowly ebbed away from the feeling of peace and wholeness that was slowly filling her she thought “ _hmm, this will do fine, I think.”_

(Damn right).

...

...

...

 

            It took Merlin some time to find Gaius, wandering through the halls and walking past the bustling servants. She passed the kitchens and the laundry rooms. Past Knights and maids. She got lost three times (ok, five times) and only managed to find the Physicians quarters because someone took pity on her and asked if she was lost.

 

 _All they are missing is a Minotaur_ Merlin thought.

...

...

...

 

            Gaius would never be called a care-free man. When there were things to do, he did them, and with great effort and accuracy. A noble trait, considering the lives that hung in the balance of his profession. He lived his life seriously and dealt with the things in his life with dignity and patience.

 

            So when a girl of 17 came bursting into his rooms, with bags strewn over her shoulders, knocking over bottles and books on her way towards him, he was not pleased. _My name is Merlin,_ she said. _My mother wrote to you_ , she said. _I have magic and I am not very good at hiding it,_ she said.

 

            Well, she didn’t really say that last part, but she might as well have with the way she stopped that bucket from falling on his head.

 

            No, Gaius was a serious man, with serious life-or-death problems. He did not have time to protect a fool-hardy girl with bigger ears than sense. He would not have time to teach her his craft, so that she may succeed him, if he would always have to be on the lookout for guards, the king or lit pyres. He would not lose sleep while worrying over one silly girl and her astoundingly powerful magic.

 

_Oh bugger._

...

...

...

 

            The first time (well not actually the first time, but we’ll get to that later) Merlin met the crowned prince it was a disaster. He was using some poor servant for target practice, boasting to his friends as prats often do, fluttering his proverbial feathers like the peacock that he was. Merlin would not stand for it.

 

            _No, we are not friends,_ she said _. I do not befriend men with more weapons than sense._

 

            _You can’t talk to me like that,_ he said. _I am your Prince._

 

            _Oh,_ she replied _. A Prince you say? And here I thought Camelot showed such promise._

He stood there with his mouth open, his arms at his side and his pride bruised.

           She walked away with her head held high, her chin gutting out and her heart beating faster than she thought possible.

 

           That was the first time.

...

...

...

 

           The second time (well, the third time, but I told you we would get to that) they met she was wandering aimlessly, doing an errand for Gaius while admiring the bustle of the town. He, on the other hand, was “prancing about like an idiot” (her words, not mine) showing off to his inferiors and putting the plebs in line.

 

           Needless to say this meeting did not go well either.

...

...

...

 

_Merlin._

_Meeeeerliiiiiin._

_MERLIN!_

            It must be lonely to be the last dragon alive. To be chained underneath a castle with your only company being a 17 year old girl who could not begin to comprehend her destiny or the trials that awaited her. Such seclusion would understandably bring on delusional thoughts, like Merlin’s and Arthur’s destinies being intertwined and being two sides of the same coin. _What absolute bullocks._

...

...

...

 

(There once was a witch,

Who was a total bitch.

Uther killed her son,

And not to be outdone-

She hatched a plan,

To be the hit man.

There sat the son of the king,

So she started to sing.

So Merlin used her magic,

the outcome is so tragic.

Now she’s the prince’s servant.

Let us hope he is not observant...)

...

...

...

 

            Every few days Merlin would wander through the forest outside the gates of Camelot to feel the wind caress her. To feel the mighty unknown mystic force fill her with purpose and meaning again. Luckily enough, she could gather a few herbs here and there to justify these trips to Gaius and the Royal Idiot. But truly, she came for the earth beneath her feet. She came for the song of the rustling leaves and birds. She came to feel small. To stand next to the older than everything trees and meadows and to know that she was insignificant to the clouds and the hills.

 

            It was a great comfort to her to know that long after she was dead and gone the forest would remain. The brooks would babble long after she stopped speaking. The trees would grow until she became one with them (though she did not know she would one day be one with the trees literally).

 

            If she listened hard enough she could hear the ancient call of the wild:       

 

_Emrys has come._

_Emrys is here._

_Emrys will save us all._

 

           She did not know who Emrys was, but she did not envy him his great task of saving everyone (Saving one person over and over again was enough work, _thank you very much_ ).

 

           She walked through the forest, feeling peace, but if she stayed too long, she would begin to feel anxious, her gut would gnaw at her and her throat would clench. She did not know why it caused her discomfort to leave Camelot for too long. So she would return, to see whose turn it was to attempt to kill Arthur next.

 

           Dammit, the prat was growing on her.

…

…

…

 

            Once upon a time, Merlin believed in fairy tales. Magic and dragons were real so it was not a huge leap for the young witch. She believed in chivalry and happy endings. She even believed in frog princes at one point in time.

 

            But in fairy tales all witches are evil, which Merlin was not. What kind of role models could Merlin really have? No, she was not a villain.

 

            But she was not a damsel in distress, in desperate need of saving. Mostly, she did not know what she was.

 

            Merlin used to believe in fairy tales.

 

            But that was a long time ago.

…

…

…

 

            Arthur’s new maidservant was… confounding (to say the least, which, as verbose as the girl in questions is, is an understatement).

 

            She was never around when danger was afoot, she would spend hours at the local tavern— _doing God knows what,_ she was always found being lazy and absolutely _useless_.

 

            But her chores were always done.

 

            It was the most curious thing. And Arthur was determined to ignore it (not that he realized).

…

…

…

 

            There are three things of which Gaius was absolutely sure.

 

            The first was that everything in the world, not matter how large or small the event, is a reaction of a cause that has been started by multiple happenings.

 

            The second was that Merlin arriving at Camelot would set into motion a series of events that would change the world.

 

            The third was that if she slept in late one more time, he was going to _murder her_.

 

            Every morning Merlin out-sleeps the rise of the sun and the crow of the roosters. When Gaius finally gives into his annoyance and shakes her awake. She dashes to dress and make it to the kitchens to get breakfast for her liege and bring it to him _so late that she need not have bothered at all,_ Mer _lin_.

 

            Then it is off to the forest, to gather herbs for her mentor and run errands through town. She gives the left-overs from breakfast to the poor and orphaned around town because she knows what it is like to live hungry, and it is no way for anyone to live. Then she watches as Gaius grinds the herbs (she helps when he isn’t watching) and boils the tonics. Then she delivers them to his patients and meets Arthur _just in time_ to clean out his stables from his morning ride with his knights.

 

            Around noon, when the sun is high over head, she meets Arthur on the training field with lunch and squints when the glare from his sword meets her eyes (she swears he does it on purpose to annoy her, but she won’t give him the satisfaction of complaining- ok, yes she will, he is a prat and dollop-head).

 

            Then she stops whatever new plot is afoot to kill Arthur and darns his clothing with magic, _in secret,_ in another part of the castle. She gathers his things and does her chores and then stands behind Arthur as he has dinner with his father and... whatever Morgana is to him, she can never really tell.

 

            Then she prepares Arthurs bath and waits outside until he calls her. By the time she _finally_ puts him into bed she can practically feel the texture of her own sheets around her body. She is so close, _so close_ , to being back in bed, but Gaius always, without fail, gives her a lecture on her responsibilities and waking up on time in the morning (which would be easier if he didn’t insist on keeping her up late telling her to wake up earlier, _I mean honestly)._

…

…

…

 

            Lancelot is simple. He is honest and kind and the best man that Merlin has ever met. When he saves her from the Griffin her heart pounds nearly out of her chest and her breath catches. So she puts him in her bed and makes him a knight. When he looks at her, it’s like he looks past her big ears and awkward limbs— and that makes Merlin feel warm and light. His hair, his eyes, his face are all physically appealing to Merlin (the billowing crimson cape is nothing to scoff at either). Her attraction to him is expected and she embraces it, finding the simple camaraderie between them to be easy and fun. He cares about her, she cares about him. It is that _simple._ So what if he stares a little too long at Gwen’s retreating figure or that he prefers to spend time sparring with Arthur rather than follow her while she is doing her chores. She finds a kindred spirit in Lancelot, someone who is willing to do anything to achieve the greater good.

 

            But after a while, Merlin’s heart stops skipping a beat around Lancelot, she breathes as clearly as ever and she stop caring that he stares at her _best friend_. She doesn’t think about him anymore when she delivers tonics to the sick. No, after a few days she stops staring after him when he spars with Prince Prat. However, she does catch herself staring in their general direction occasionally. Lancelot is kind and brave and _simple._

 

            Arthur is... Arthur is not simple.

 

            But then Lancelot leaves and Arthur stays and simple just doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

...

...

...

 

           It really isn’t fair that Merlin is surrounded by women much more beautiful than her _all the time_. It’s ridiculous really that so many lady-like ladies would be assembled in one place. There is Gwen, whose loveliness is only exceeded by her kindness and sincerity. Her hair a mess of dark curls that frame her exotic, dark eyes. There is Sophia, the maiden in distress so beautiful it was almost as if she was plucked from a fairy tale. There are all the fine and noble ladies of the court who dance and curtsy when it is proper (and do not spilled wine on their dresses when visiting dignitaries are around).  There is Nimueh, whose seductive eyes and sheer competence are almost annoying when they are around. And then there is Morgana. The stunning ward of the King. Her delicate features contrast her daring gowns. Her grace and allure are envied by every woman at court. It would annoy Merlin that she was surrounded by beautiful women all the time, if she, you know, _cared_ (which she most certainly _does not_ ).  

 

           (And really, does Arthur have to be so _obvious_ when he stares at them? It’s idiotic, really).

...

...

...

 

            For the most part, Merlin enjoys herself in her new home. She feels like she is accomplishing something. She helps those who need it, and with her position in Arthur’s household, she has access to the resources that allow her to do so. She has friends who care about her and a mentor who believes in her. She also has a dragon who tells her to do things, but she doesn’t like to dwell on that too much. She has responsibilities, like a _proper adult_ and while the thought of that once scared her, it only fills her with a sense of importance now.

 

            She likes her new clothes and her new room and her new friends. She enjoys the solitude and anonymity of walking through town on an errand. She feels like it is okay to _want_ things now. To want people to see her a certain way and to have things she sees and to do things she shouldn’t, in a way that would have been selfish before she came to Camelot. She wants flowers and romance and love. She wants Gwen to be happy, and Uther to stop being so cruel. She wants Morgana to stop being afraid and lost. She wants Arthur to stop looking through her and see her. Most of all she wants Gaius to _stop_ trying to teach her about the human reproductive system.

 

            But then her mother comes to Camelot with a black eye and all Merlin wants then is _revenge._

...

...

...

 

            Arthur and Will meeting is never something that Merlin expected would happen. She had gotten so good at separating her life in Ealdor and her life in Camelot that the thought of the two intersecting had never crossed her mind. She had honestly not expected for Arthur to sneak up on their camp and scare her half to death. She had barely suppressed a burst of magic to send him soaring back into the forest. But he had come. She had not expected that.

                            

            Now here they were, in her childhood home, surrounded by plebeians and common folk who knew there was something _different_ about Merlin. She hoped that no one would mention that to Arthur.

 

            Then there was Will. Brash, jealous Will, who was still angry at her for leaving. She found him hacking at a tree with his father’s sword in the forest where they first kissed.

 

            “I thought I would find you here,” Merlin said with a wry grin.

 

            “Don’t flatter yourself, I came here because no one else ever comes here.”

 

            There was an awkward silence where neither person said anything. Will continued to hack at the tree and Merlin shifted from foot to foot. Finally they both spoke at the same time.

 

           “Listen—”     “Why did you—”

 

            They both stopped. They stared at each other for a long while. Then, suddenly, struck by the ridiculousness of the situation, they began laughing. Merlin gave in first.

 

            “What were you saying?”

 

            “Why did you leave Merlin? I wouldn’t have told anyone, you know that.”

 

            She glanced down at her feet, crinkling the fallen leaves on the ground.

 

            “My mother made me. I didn’t have a choice.”

 

            Will stared at her, forlorn. Merlin could see the sadness in his eyes and she felt pity, an emotion which surprised her. She spoke without thinking.

 

            “But it was for the best Will. My mother knew that I needed more out of existence than a life in a small town with people who wouldn’t understand me. She knew before I did Will.”

 

            “And they do? The prince and the highborns? They understand you?”

 

            The tone in his voice hurt Merlin. But she knew he was right.

 

            “No, they don’t understand me. But maybe one day they might. It’s like— do you remember when we knocked that bird out of its nest and it died and we didn’t tell anyone and we felt tense for days? But then we told my mother and she took care of the bird’s babies and we felt right in our skin again? That’s what it was like for me Will. I was so wound up here and I couldn’t even see it until I got there and felt right. I can’t explain it any better than that— Camelot just— feels _right_.”

 

             Will nodded. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

 

            “I should have known that you would leave one day, Merlin. You always wanted a fairytale and nothing less would have satisfied you.”

 

            The wind swirled around them, seemingly in agreement with what Will was saying.

 

            “Do you remember that time when your mother took you away and you came back and you said that you kissed a frog prince and that you changed him back to normal?”

 

            Merlin laughed, jolted by the sudden memory.

 

            “I’d completely forgotten about that. That was such a long time ago.”

 

           “Yes, it was. But even back then you wanted something I could never give you. I love you Merlin, I do. Any man would be insane not to. But...”

 

            Will trailed off. Merlin felt her eyes tear and her throat close up. She willed down her emotions, knowing that Will needed to express this or she would lose him forever.

 

            “I’m not a frog prince, am I Merlin?”

 

            Merlin could feel a tear slip down her cheek. She felt horrible, how could she cause her best friend so much pain? She was a horrible, terrible person. She was worse than all the villains who came to kill Arthur routinely.

 

            Arthur. _Dammit, Merlin, not now, don’t think about him now._

 

            Merlin drew in a long, shakey breath, knowing that she had to tell him the truth.

 

            “No, Will. You are a frog prince. You’re just not _my_ frog prince.”

 

            Will nodded a few times, chuckling inwardly.

 

            “Come on, we should get back to town before anyone notices we are both missing. It would be most improper for a lady in the service of the future King to be caught alone with an unmarried man.”

 

            Will threw his arm around Merlin’s shoulder, directing them both back to the village.

 

            Neither of them seeing the blond haired prince taking cover behind a Hawthorn tree _._

_..._

_..._

_..._

 

             Will was dead. He had saved her. He had told her he loved her and that she deserved a fairy tale. Will was gone forever and no spell in the world could change that. He had taken the blame for her sorcery and then died on her mother’s table. She wished— She wished...

 

            Oh God, Will is dead.

...

...

...

 

            Arthur is the most inconsiderate, pig-headed, idiotic, moronic, PRAT that would ever walk to face of Albion. How could he have killed such a stunning, innocent creature with no more thought than to pull the trigger, launching an arrow into that gorgeous unicorn?

 

            Because of him, Camelot had no food, no water and no hope. His people were suffering and the guardian of the unicorns had told him that he had failed his trials. Merlin hated him. She hated him more than she ever thought she could. Except that she couldn’t really hate him. Not when he hated himself enough for all of Camelot.

 

            The Labyrinth was a trap. It was obviously a trap and Arthur was prepared to lose his life for his people. He was so desperate and sorry. How could Merlin let him go alone? So she lied. She went with him, against his order, but it’s not like Merlin ever listens to Arthur anyways. But she didn’t realize that the trap was for her and that she was the bait (which she objected to. She was _not_ the damsel in distress and her life was not a fairytale, dammit).

 

            “You know me Merlin. I never listen to you.”

 

            Yes, she knew that. That was the problem. If he ever did, he just might hear _sense._

...

...

...

 

            Merlin hated Uther. She hated him more than she thought was possible. Because of him, Gwen’s father was dead. Dear, sweet Gwen who had never hurt a fly, and her father, whose only goal in life was to make sure his daughter was taken care of. It was all Uther’s fault. All of it. She hated him, and she hated that Arthur would not stand up to his father.

 

            But he apologised the Gwen.

 

            Is that taking a stand? Merlin can’t tell anymore.

...

...

...

 

            He mentions it when she is feeding the fire in his chambers. It comes so abruptly that she almost burns herself on the flames. She almost does not hear it in her shock of the broken silence.

 

            “My first kiss was to a girl who kept calling me a frog and then left Camelot the next day.”

 

            Merlin did not know what to say. What could she say? How does one even respond to that kind of admission? She was frozen in her spot, her hand poised above the log pile. She could feel Arthurs stare on her neck. The manual labour had made her hot, so she tied her hair into a messy bun with a tattered ribbon. Neither of them said anything. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and the pounding of their hearts. Finally, Merlin said,

 

            “My first kiss was to a frog who turned out to be a prince.”

 

            Arthur glanced back down to the papers in front of him.

 

            “Alright then.”

 

            With that, Merlin finished piling the logs in the fire and left the prince’s chambers for the night.

 

            (Alright then, indeed).

...

...

...

 

            Everything gets really confusing after that. Merlin and Arthur don’t know how to act around one another anymore. Every exchange is loaded and they leave Merlin with a ringing in her ears that she never noticed before. He starts to do things that he never did in the time preceding their talk. She wakes up to find a new set of ribbons for her hair outside her door. Arthur doesn’t call her useless anymore when she ruins another pair of his socks or puts his armor on in the wrong order.

 

            Arthur holds her gaze for so long that her face flushes the Pendragon red. She can feel his eyes on her when she walks away and she **_wants it to stop immediately._** The constant attention makes her paranoid.

 

 _He knows,_ she thinks _. He knows that I have magic and that is why he is always there, watching me. He is waiting for me to slip up so that he has proof to set his father on me._

 

            But she continues to do her job, sans magic. She is extra careful around him, watching everything she says, leaving him no room for suspicion. She doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels the need to watch her every moment they are together. What happened to the good old days of him ignoring her presence and piling her with chores? The only thing he asks her to do anymore is accompany him on his morning rides and bring him meals. He finds a valet who begins to do all the hard-work and that offends Merlin. That he would make it so obvious that he no longer trusted her with the duties to which she was assigned. But she mentions nothing, not wanting to bring any more attention to herself than she is already being given by the frog-prince himself.

 

            But a girl can only take so much until she snaps. She lasts until dinner the week before his name day.

 

            “Why am I here Arthur? There is no reason for me to be here while you eat— Just tell me what you want or what you know and put me out of my misery, I don’t know what you want anymore! What are we even doing here?!”

 

            Arthur jolts up quickly, knocking his plate over and spilling food over onto the table.

 

            “I want— that is, I know... What I mean to say, _Mer_ lin is that there are certain expectations placed on me and I cannot just— I mean, I cannot just... First, I need to find a way to make you become...Not that you need to become anything, but others would think that it would not be proper, you see?”

 

            Merlin stared at the prince in dumbfounded confusion. No. She had no semblance of an idea what he was talking about. She sighed, exasperated at his odd behaviour. She put her head in her hands.  She has absolutely no idea what is happening anymore.

 

            “It doesn’t matter, just eat your tomatoes.”

...

...

...

 

            Uther glared at his son, and Arthur glared back. Neither party blinking or flinching. The war of wills between father and son was strong and it did not look to be ending soon. The room was still. There was no sound- it seemed that time held still while both men held their ground.

 

            Arthur had asked for his father’s private audience and they were alone in the throne room. Uther sat with his back straight, but his resolve was wavering. Arthur had made his case and would not back down. He had not used words like _love,_ or any other weak emotion. The words he used were strong and defiant, but that would not matter if the king forbade him from pursuing his goal.

 

            Finally, a bird crowed from outside the room and time began to move again. Uther dropped his head to his hands, shaking his head in bemusement and annoyance. The king spoke first.

 

            “Just...” he began, “just do not get her with child.”

 

            _Whew._

...

...

...

 

           Merlin doesn’t understand anything anymore. Arthur keeps buying her clothes and shiny things and people stare at her when she walks through the halls running errands for Gaius (because Arthur won’t let her do anything anymore except go on rides and eat dinner with him and she needs to do _something_ to feel useful). She even catches Uther staring at her with appraising eyes. She sees Morgana and Gwen giggling to themselves when she and Arthur are together and she wants to rip her hair out because **_no one will tell her what is happening._**

****

           Even Gaius looks at her weird now.

 

_Gaius, for goodness sake._

...

...

...

 

           But then Arthur gets bitten by the Questing beast and her heart feels like it is being squeezed and all of a sudden she gets it.

 

           Oh. She loves Arthur.

 

           And Arthur is going to die.

 

           Unless she can fix it.

...

...

...

 

            She avoids Arthur once she knows that he is better. She ducks behind tapestries and columns, holding her breath until he passes by. And it isn’t like he is _specifically looking for her_ or anything, although, that is not to say that seeing her would be unwelcome. She lasts a week before he corners her in the forest (hunting prey is his forte after all).

 

            “Where in hell have you been Merlin? I was dying and what? You were too busy to see me on my _death bed_?!”

 

            She did not look up from the ground or uncroutch from her position at the root of the Hawthorn tree.

 

            “I was busy. I had to help Gaius gather herbs for _your_ medicine.”

 

            Arthur stalked up to her and grabbed her shoulders, lifting her up with some difficulty as he was still healing.

 

            “Everyone came to see me. When I asked about you they said you were gone and that is _exactly_ what I needed to hear when I was dying. Where were you Merlin?!”

 

            He stared down at her, but she averted her eyes.

 

           “Your absence wouldn’t have anything to do with my sudden recovery, would it?”

 

           She pulled herself away from his hold.

 

           “Don’t be daft. I’m just a useless maidservant, what could I have done?”

 

           Arthur dropped his arms to his side.

 

           “Well, that is true. You are useless. And clumsy. And a lazy lay about. Nothing would ever change that or have the power to.”

 

           Merlin finally glared back at Arthur, staring defiantly into his eyes.

 

           “Yeah, and maybe one day you’ll magically transform into a handsome prince. But magic is outlawed, that’ll probably never happen.”

 

           “You’re right, Merlin. Magic is outlawed.”

 

           Then Merlin watched Arthur walk away. A gnawing feeling clawing at her stomach.

...

...

...

 

            The dark cave loomed in front of her. The rippling of light coming from the walls was barely enough to let Merlin see where the Great Dragon was. She called for what seemed like hours, but he would not come to her shouting beckons. She wanted to ask him what was happening, what Arthur knew and what she should do about it.

 

            If she asked Gaius, he would just berate her for being so careless with her magic. Gwen just gave Merlin a look of pure disbelief when she was confused by Arthur’s actions. Morgana was not to be trusted and Lancelot was off on an adventure somewhere without her.

 

            She felt so acutely alone that tears came, unbidden, to her eyes.

 

           Just when Merlin was beginning to outright despair, she heard the flap of wings drawing nearer and when she looked up, she saw the curious eyes of the one she came to see.

 

            “What is it that pains you, young sorceress?”

 

           Merlin wiped at her running nose messily with her worn sleeve.

 

           I think that Arthur knows about what I am and I don’t know what to do. I have no one to talk to. No one that understand.”

 

           She began to cry again, realizing the truth in her words.

 

            “I do not know what to do, I do not know what to do, I do not know what to do.”

 

            The Great Dragon observed the sobbing girl for a moment before sighing, shaking his head sympathetically.

 

            “There is one person you _can_ speak to, young Emrys. They can relieve you of your deceptions and show you the path that you must take in your long life.”

 

            Merlin scoffed,

 

            “Who, you? The Druids?”

 

            The Great Dragon continued to stare at her, unblinking, and with a faint glimmer of bemusement in her eyes.

 

            “No, Merlin. It is not I, or the Druids who you must confer with. It is someone who plays the most integral role in your life. If you looked past your fear, you would see who that person is, and it bewilders me that you have not seen it yet.”

 

            Merlin stared at her folded knees on the dirty ground of her perch. She felt keenly the sting of disapproval coming from her giant ally. She finally confirmed,

 

            “I need to talk to Arthur, don’t I?”

 

            The Dragon smiled,

 

           “Yes, Merlin. You need to speak to Arthur.”

 

_That is what she was afraid of._

...

...

...

 

            “Do you know?”

 

            Arthur almost jumped from his seated position. He did not hear Merlin enter his chambers. He did not, however, look up from the scrolls he was reading.

 

            “I am the Prince, _Mer-_ lin. There are quite a great many things I know— you will have to be more specific.”

 

            Merlin stared at Arthur from her position in the corner of the room. She half-hid behind one of the columns of Arthur’s bed, playing absent-mindedly with the aging wood. Arthur finally looked up at her and waited, patiently, for her to continue. A few moments past before Merlin lost her nerve with Arthur gazing at her so intently.

 

            “Never mind, it’s nothing.”

 

            Merlin turned to leave, almost tripping on the skirts of her new dress which was longer than she was used to wearing. She managed to make it to the exit, her hand on the engraved wood of the door, when she was startled by Arthur unexpectedly saying,

 

            “Of course, I know, Merlin. You may THINK that I am a, what was it? A Clot-pole? But I am not as unobservant or ignorant as you seem to think I am.”

 

            Merlin did not move, her hand was frozen in her position just a few centimeters from the door. The room was silent—the tension seemed to crackle between her and her Prince. Arthur continued,

 

            “I’ve known absolutely for a while now, suspected for longer though. I am a little offended that you thought you could hide it from me for as long as you think you did.”

 

            Merlin’s hand dropped to her side. She felt a ball of fear gnaw at her stomach, growing bigger and bigger with every moment that silence ensued. She did not know what to do— plead for her life? Jump out the window? Run through the door and attempt to make a break for it? Perhaps she coul—

 

            “However, I am absolutely outraged that you felt that you could not tell me yourself. Have I ever, _ever_ done anything to make you think that I would let harm befall you? That I would not do everything in my power to keep you safe and by my side always?”

 

            Merlin half turned towards Arthur’s voice at this. She could not make sense of what he was saying.

 

            “Have I not made it completely and certainly obvious that I love you and want to marry you? That I want you to be my queen and rule alongside me? That I want you to have my children and to live with me and make mistakes with me and be together for the rest of our lives?”

 

            _Oh._

            Merlin could finally feel her legs and the numbness left her fingers, leaving only a tingling. She turned, completely facing Arthur now. He had his chin resting on his folded hands. The candle light made his gold-spun hair seem ethereal in the night. It was unusual to see Arthur with no emotion on his face— normally; she felt she could read him so well. He was just so...serious. There was no smirk on his lips or glint of mischief in his eyes.

           

            “So yes, Merlin. I do know. I know that you have helped steer me on the right path more times than I should probably ever admit to. I know that you pilfer my leftover breakfast when you think I am not looking and I know that you do it because sometimes the children in town go hungry. I know that you have saved my life and Camelot more than any knight I could ever train. You have bewitched me; I spend hours sometimes, thinking of nothing but you and your ridiculous ears. And when I say ridiculous, I mean absolutely, comically large. I drift off in council meetings and training sessions; because I was thinking about something insubordinate you said earlier. So yes, I know that you are a witch.”

 

            Merlin staggered forward. She felt like all the energy in her body had been zapped from her, once again. She managed to catch her knee on the bed, and sat down, in an inelegant _plumph_.

 

            “I also do not see a reason for my father to ever discover this or for anyone to inform him of it. So please, for the love of God, Merlin, be careful from now on.”

 

            With that, Arthur went back to his reading. His head bent down and Merlin knew that the conversation was over with. They sat in silence once more. The only sounds in the room were from Arthur scribbling on his sheets or Merlin’s occasional shift in position. The candles flickered as the wind blew in through the open windows, which Merlin had forgotten to close. She felt a chill settle in her bones and began to get up to close them but decided that all pretense was over with and that if she could not be herself around Arthur now, then she would never be herself at all. With a golden flash of her eyes the windows shut quietly and the room warmed, almost instantly. The fire burned brighter and the candles gave more light. She began to settle onto the bed. She lay down, her head finding its place on Arthur’s pillow. It smelled like him. All sunshine, soap and leather. She stared up at the beds canopy, listening to the steady beating of her own heart— knowing that Arthurs beat only a few feet from her.

 

            “Arthur?”

 

            “Yes, Merlin?”

 

           “I love you, too.”

 

           He looked up at her again, a smirk splayed so widely on his lips that it was almost comical.

 

           “Obviously.”

 

           (Obviously, indeed).

...

...

...

 

           Far below the castle, the Great Dragon smiled in amusement.

 

_Now, was that so hard?_

_(What fools these mortals are)._

...

...

...

 

**_End._ **


End file.
